


Harry Potter and the Crack That Follows

by fourth_rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, E-mail Format, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Parody, Screenplay/Script Format, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourth_rose/pseuds/fourth_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my collection of stand-alone, cracky ficlets set in the Harry Potter universe. Anything goes, nothing is meant to be taken too seriously...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry Potter and the Crack That Follows

**Author's Note:**

> All of these stories were written several years ago, and most of them before the book series was finished. I'll point out the stories that are based on incomplete canon to avoid confusion ;-)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When all is said and done - what do those who got offed in the process have to say about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in July 2007, right after book 7 came out.

_The land behind the veil. Colourless, nondescript landscape. Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore are sitting on a stone, sharing a bag of sherbet lemons because clichés die last._

Sirius: It's about time they got started. Nothing against you, old man, but it's getting kinda boring here.

Albus: To the well-trained mind, death is nothing but the next great adventure.

Sirius: So giving yourself diabetes from tons of sherbet lemons is your idea of adventure?

_There's a soft plop, and a snowy owl appears out of nowhere._

Hedwig: *hoots indignantly*

Sirius: They're killing _pets_ now? Is nothing sacred to those modern kids' book authors? Oh, hello, Mad-Eye, that's somewhat better.

Moody: Damn, after all the paranoia, I'm still the first one to kick the bucket?

Dumbledore: Actually, there was that former colleague of mine, but we're not admitting one-paragraph characters here.

Sirius: Was that a triple plop right now? Are things finally getting somewhat entertaining?

Dumbledore: Scrimgeour, dear old Batilda, and Ted Tonks are probably not exactly in that category.

Sirius: Drat.

_With another, somewhat fatter plop, Peter Pettigrew appears, his silver hand still around his throat. _

Pettigrew: Aaaaargh!

Sirius: Hi there, Wormtail. Long time, no see.

Pettigrew: *gurgles*

Dumbledore: I'm afraid he won't be much of a conversationalist, Sirius.

Moody: Hey, where did my eye go?

Sirius: Stuck to Umbridge's office door, I hear.

Moody: Is nothing sacred?

Hedwig: *hoots reproachfully*

_With a crack, Dobby the house-elf appears, clutching his blood-stained chest. _

Dobby (slowly sinking to the ground): Dobby would have loved to see Montana...

Sirius: What's that supposed to mean?

Dobby (still on the ground): Dobby does not know, but he has been told it is the thing to say.

Dumbledore: Who goes there? *drops sherbet lemon bag* Merlin's beard, Gellert Grindelwald, is that you?

Grindelwald (wrinkling his nose): Albus, the years haven't been kind to you.

Dumbledore (grimacing): I can easily return the compliment, my old friend. Thank God we'll only be slashed during our heydays.

Grindelwald: Please shut it before you give me any mental images.

Dumbledore: Too late, I'm afraid.

Sirius: Hey, you there! Which one are you?

Crabbe: Oh, thanks for reminding me again that Goyle and I only existed as a single entity!

Sirius: I wasn't talking to you, Mr Indistinguishable Ebil Sidekick. You, with the red hair!

Fred Weasley: I can't believe it! She bloody well offed me!

Dumbledore: Well, it had to be one of you two, Mr Weasley, I'm afraid. You and your brother were the only Weasleys who came with a spare.

Fred: Yes, but why did she choose the one who still had _both_ his ears? Aren't there enough scarfaces around in this series already?

Moody: Hey!

Fred: Poor George. No more twincest for him.

Sirius: Just because you're dead? What are you, new? – Oh, okay, never mind.

Fred: Huh?

Dumbledore (twinkling): What Mr Black is delicately trying to explain...

Sirius: MOONY!

Remus: PADFOOT!

Dumbledore (beaming): Oh, finally, I thought the show was never going to start properly.

Tonks: Hey, you, get your grubby paws off him, that's my husband whose face you're eating!

Remus: Woman, which part of "till death us do part" do you not understand?

Sirius: That's the spirit!

Moody: Speaking of spirits, what's that flicker over there?

Dumbledore: Severus?

Snape: I'm never speaking to you again, you scheming old bastard, just so you know. Is Lily here?

Sirius: Sure, and so is James.

Snape: Damn, I so knew why that Lily thing should have stayed fanon.

Fred: Professor Snape, I don't mean to be rude – okay, who am I kidding, I'm Fred Weasley and don't give a rat's arse whether I'm rude or not – why are you translucent? This is the afterlife, the place for ghosts is two doors down the corridor!

Snape: It seems my vital status is not yet fully decided.

Fred: Beg pardon?

Snape: Fandom hasn't fully made up its mind yet whether I'm really dead.

Sirius: Oh, I know all about that, Snivellus. It was the same for me at first, but I'm telling you, you're dead as a doornail. Don't worry, you'll still get plenty of action.

Dumbledore: You keep mentioning that, Mr Black, yet I can't help noticing that so far –

Sirius: I'm afraid you're pretty much beyond help in that regard, old man.

Dumbledore: Alas.

Remus (checking the cloudy sky): Sirius, I'd love nothing better than to disappear for a quick shag behind the scenes since my whole life happened off-screen anyway, but I believe it's time.

Sirius: Yep, definitely. Let's go fetch Prongs and Lily, the Dead Man Walking scene is up next!

_Exeunt Sirius and Remus. _

Dumbledore: Mr Creevey, what are you doing here? This is no place for the underaged!

Colin: Why do I have the feeling you're not talking about premature death here?

Moody: Smart kid, that. Aren't you the Potter fanboy?

Colin (with dignity): I have no idea what you are talking about. HARRY OMG!!111!!

Harry (stepping in front of his escort party): Hi everyone, don't mind me, I'll only be here for a moment before I have to go back.

Snape (rolling his eyes): Aren't you supposed to wait three days for that?

Harry: No religious cracks, please, I've had enough trouble on that front already. Hi, Professor Dumbledore, don't you think you have something to tell me?

Dumbledore: Ohhhh, finally, my dear boy, I can hardly wait! Come here, help me up, we'll be off for the great exposition scene of much magical confusion!

Harry (sighing): Any chance of you finally making some sense in it?

Dumbledore: Where's the fun in that?

Harry: Hey, I still have a whole kickass battle scene to live through, could you try to be a little supportive for a change?

Snape: Spare us the dramatics, Mr Marked Man. Now go and fondle Draco Malfoy's wand some more.

Harry: Well, if you put it like that...

_Exeunt Harry and Dumbledore. _

Snape: There's that blasted snake. Seems Longbottom was finally good for something.

Sirius: Funny that Neville Longbottom of all people should avenge you, huh?

Snape: Yeah, rub it in, will you?

Bellatrix: Rrrrrrrrrraaaaaaahhhhhh!

Sirius: Oh, get out of here, I've had enough of my family for the rest of my life.

Bellatrix: Well, that shouldn't be a problem any more, should it? MASTER, NOOOOOOOOOOO! HE CAN'T HAVE KILLED YOU!!!

_The Dark Lord steps out of a cloud of green smoke. _

Voldemort: Muahahahahaha! Despair not, Bella, my revenge shall be terrible!

Sirius: What are you blathering about? Harry blasted you to smithereens with the power of twu wuv or something, what can you still do to him?

Voldemort (smirking evilly): He's about to find out after page 600.

Sirius: There's nothing after page 600.

Voldemort: There is _now_, you know.

Lupin (closing his eyes for a moment): Oh no, you _didn't_.

Snape: Yes, he did. I'd recognise that style anywhere.

Lupin: There's such a thing as overdoing it, Mr You-Know-Who. Harry naming his son after Dumbledore and _Snape_??

Sirius: After one bloke who cheerfully fattened him up for slaughter and another who terrorised him for six years?

Voldemort (shrugging): I always suspected he had a thing for punishment.

Colin: Quite apart from the fact that Harry's camper than a row of pink tents.

Voldemort: You'd know, pint-size. That's why it's called _revenge_. I still couldn't keep him from ogling Draco Malfoy, but you can't have everything, even when you're a Dark Lord.

Snape: Okay, fine, but "one of the bravest men he ever knew"? So I fancied his Mum, big deal, but why would the brat suddenly turn into my biggest fan?

Sirius: I'm afraid he doesn't do things by half, our Harry.

Snape: I get it that he forgave that house-elf for betraying you, Black, since Potter loves everyone who feeds him, but I didn't even cook for him!

Voldemort: Will you shut up already? I shall be the one to laugh in the end! No more slashy goodness for you, Mr Boy Who Lived To Lead A Life Married To His Mother!

Sirius: Wow, you are _really_ new here, Voldiepumpkins, aren't you?

Voldemort: Huh?

Snape: I'm afraid no matter what you do, my Lord, Potter is going to have his hands full in that regard. Among other things.

Lupin: Because the power the Dark Lord knows not...

Sirius: ...is called fandom, you know, and it always wins in the end.

Lupin: Hear, hear. Your place or mine?

Sirius: Does it really matter here?

Lupin: No, but I've always liked that line.

Snape: Hey, what about me?

Sirius: Oh, okay, you can come along too.

_Exeunt Sirius, Lupin, and Snape. A blood-red sun sets on the horizon. _

Voldemort: Oh, bloody hell. Bella, you still here?

Bellatrix: Always, my Lord. Plus, we've got the snake if you feel up to a little breathplay.

Voldemort: Well, it's something.

_They set off into to the sunset, to the sound of furious typing in the distance._

_And all is well, after all. _


	2. Think of England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate times call for desperate measures. Still, Harry might have more on his hands than he bargained for if it weren't for his Slytherin side...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written before the publication of book 6.

Minister Fudge glanced up from the report he'd been reading when there was a knock on the door of his office. He was quite sure he had no more appointments this late in the afternoon…  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
The door opened to reveal a red-haired girl, no older than fifteen, clad in Hogwarts robes and blushing furiously.  
  
"I'm very sorry for intruding, Minister, but I absolutely have to speak to you, and your secretary seems to have left already, so I couldn't ask her to ask you to…" The sentence faded into some unintelligible murmur; the girl was clearly terrified.  
  
Fudge sighed. He was not an unkind man, but it had been a rather long day. "Very well, since you're already here, you might as well enter, Miss – "  
  
"Weasley, Sir. Ginevra Weasley." The girl entered hesitantly and closed the door behind her.  
  
Fudge frowned. "You would be Arthur Weasley's daughter, then? Is he sending you?" This did not bode well; with the notable exception of young Percy, that family was trouble. Stubborn supporters of Dumbledore, to begin with. And great friends with that half-crazed boy hero.  
  
"Oh no, Sir – and please, please don't tell him that I came here!" There were tears in her eyes now; Fudge quickly ushered her into a chair because she seemed close to fainting.  
  
"Are you all right, Miss Weasley? Here, have a glass of water, you look dead on your feet."  
  
She gave him a watery smile, her fingers brushing his as she accepted the glass from him. "You're too kind, Minister – I really don't feel too well, I'm just so worried and afraid… would you mind terribly if I take off my robe? These school uniforms are suffocating, and it's rather warm in here…"  
  
Before Fudge could answer, she had shed her black school robe to reveal the typical blouse and pleated skirt – though it seemed to Fudge that, in his school days, the girls' blouses had been less form-fitting and the skirts a good deal longer. This one didn't even cover her knees – and the girl certainly had fine legs…  
  
Fudge blinked, shocked by this train of thought. He was the Minister for Magic. He was _not_ checking out the legs, or any other body parts, of an underage schoolgirl who had come to his office in good faith. What was the matter with him lately?  
  
The Minister cleared his throat and tried to sit up straighter. "Well, what can I do for you, Miss Weasley?"  
  
God help him, now she was leaning closer. Fudge began to sweat. Had the two top buttons of her blouse been undone before? He certainly hadn't noticed until she'd presented him with this view of her... her...  
  
Her voice was soft and so low that _he_ had to lean in to hear her. "I came to ask you a favour, Minister. I've wanted to talk to you for such a long time…"  
  
  


***

  
  
  
"You can get rid of that cloak, Harry; we're three streets away from the ministry by now."  
  
A tad reluctantly, Harry shrugged off the invisibility cloak and stuffed it into his bag. Ginny eyed him curiously. "Well, did you get them?"  
  
Grinning, Harry patted the bag. "At least twenty of them. Colin is going to develop them for me, and then this will be the last we've ever heard from Minister Fudge, believe me."  
  
"I'm still not fully convinced that he's really going to resign because of this."  
  
"Ginny, these are photos of him and a half-naked underage girl on his office desk! Can you imagine what would happen if these were printed in the Quibbler?"  
  
"Yes, Mum would skin me alive", Ginny murmured, "and I'd thank you to not bring up any details about the last hour, I've been traumatised enough."  
  
Harry gave her a critical look. "You don't look traumatised to me."  
  
Ginny pouted. "I will be if I don't get my reward, Harry."  
  
Harry blinked. "What are you talking about? You agreed to do this because we both know that we _have_ to get rid of Fudge - the wizarding world stands no chance against Voldemort if he remains at his post!"  
  
"I agreed to do what you asked of me, Harry", Ginny reminded him calmly, "and you said that you owed me for it, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, well, I certainly did, but… I mean, what do you want, anyway?" Harry found that he was rather dreading the answer; the glint in Ginny's eyes didn't bode well at all.  
  
Neither did her hand on the back of his neck when she stepped closer. "You know exactly what I want, Harry." She was practically purring now, like a cat who knows that the mouse has no escape route left and is determined to enjoy the kill as much as possible.  
  
True to that image, Harry's answer came out rather squeaky. "Ginny, what are you on about? I thought you were dating…"  
  
"Never mind that." There was a steely edge to her voice all of a sudden. "I let a disgusting old man grope me while you were taking _pictures_. If you thought that I would be satisfied with your undying gratitude, you're _very_ wrong, Harry."   
  
Harry took a deep breath. Obviously, it had been a bad idea to underestimate her; the way she'd… well, had her way with Fudge should already have told him that, but at the time, he'd been too busy staying hidden under the cloak, not making any noise while taking pictures, and keeping his breakfast down. _Ew_. Ginny might not be traumatised, but he certainly was – and the idea of having to repay her now almost made him gag again. He knew that everything in life came with a price, but some things were just not on.   
  
Harry had found out long ago that when push came to shove, the side of his character that he called His Inner Slytherin came in quite handy.  
  
"Alright, Ginny. No-one should have reason to think that I'm not a man of my word."  
  
Plastering a smile on his face, he put his left arm around her waist and pulled her closer while his right hand was reaching into his pocket for his wand.  
  
  


***

  
  
  
"It was a lovely walk, Harry. Thanks for accompanying me."  
  
"You're welcome, Ginny. See you later!"  
  
With a nod, she wandered off towards Gryffindor tower, the slightly puzzled expression still on her face.  
  
Harry sighed. He wasn't proud of what he had done to her, but if she'd got her way, he might have had to _Obliviate_ himself afterwards – and he had a Minister for Magic to blackmail.  
  
Which left him with another obligation to fulfil. Harry took the camera out of his bag and eyed it warily; contrary to Ginny, Colin had been clear in advance about the reward he was expecting for lending Harry his most prized possession.  
  
_Very_ clear.  
  
With a determined expression, Harry put the camera back into the bag and walked towards the dungeons where Colin had his darkroom. He'd already behaved like a Slytherin on two occasions today, and given the results, he didn't regret it - but now it was time for some Gryffindor bravery.  
  
Even if he had a sneaking suspicion that Colin would want to take pictures.  
  



	3. Ferrets Forever!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HP veterans, do you still remember the time when every Harry/Draco shipper was secretly afraid that Draco might die in book 6? This fic was an attempt to banish that particular boggart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written before the publication of book 6.

_The land behind the veil. Colourless, nondescript landscape. Sirius Black is sitting on a stone, watching the grey sky, when Draco Malfoy pops out of thin air. _  
  
SB: So she did actually get rid of you, hm?  
  
DM (visibly shaken): Where the fuck am I?  
  
SB: The fact that you can use profanities should already have told you that this is not the world you’ve lived in until now.  
  
DM (bewildered): Huh?  
  
SB: I mean you’re obviously dead, kid.  
  
DM: Don’t be ridiculous. How could I be talking to you if I were dead?  
  
SB: Because I’m dead too, dimwit. This is the land of the dead. The Realm Behind The Veil. Home of Those Who Have Kicked The Bucket. Got it now?  
  
DM: This is totally outrageous! My father will hear about this!  
  
SB: Son, all your Daddy’s gonna get is a note reading _Dear Mr Death Eater, I just offed your whiny little spawn because I can. Sucks to be you. No love, JKR. _  
  
DM: Who’s that?  
  
SB: Who’s who?  
  
DM: This JKR person.  
  
SB: She’s the creator.  
  
DM: What, like... god?  
  
SB: Nah. Just the one who created you and me. And... everything else, as far as we’re concerned.  
  
DM: Well, that sounds suspiciously like...  
  
SB: Kid, stay clear of the meta. I mean it. If you get into this, you’ll end up convincing yourself that you don’t exist.  
  
DM (sounding bitter): Since I’m obviously dead, that would be the case anyway, wouldn’t it?   
  
SB: I never said you’d stopped existing just because you were dead. I didn’t, at least.  
  
DM: Who are you, anyway?  
  
SB: Sirius Black.  
  
DM: My mother’s cousin?  
  
SB: Funny, I rather expected you to ask ‘The mass murderer?’  
  
DM: Like I care about _that_. You obviously couldn’t kill _me_ now, could you?  
  
SB (grinning): You’re family, alright.  
  
DM: And you have been here for...  
  
SB: Doesn’t matter. Time doesn’t pass here. Listen, kid, I know how this looks now, but it’s actually not so bad.  
  
DM: Being dead???  
  
SB: Being dead _in canon. _  
  
DM: ...I’m afraid you’ve lost me there.  
  
SB (sighing): Oh, hell. Have you ever heard about the Trousers of Time?  
  
DM: Huh?  
  
SB: Different dimensions? Alternate universes? Parallel planes of existence?   
  
DM: You mean, like... other versions of my life? Of me??  
  
SB: Yep. Lots and lots and lots of them. And most of these are still very much alive.   
  
DM: How’s that possible?  
  
SB: You see, there’s JKR, and then there are... well, you could say _other_ creators. They’re called fangirls.  
  
DM: They’ve created alternate versions of myself?  
  
SB: Of _everyone_ you know, kid.  
  
DM: Wow.  
  
SB: Yep. And believe me, you’re going to have a lot more fun if you stick with them.  
  
DM: The fangirls?  
  
SB: Exactly.  
  
DM: ‘More fun’ meaning what, exactly?  
  
SB: Well... getting laid, for starters.  
  
DM: You don’t say!  
  
SB: I guessed that might get your attention.  
  
DM: I’m sixteen and have been locked away at Hogwarts School of the Romantically Challenged and Sexually Retarded, what do you expect?  
  
SB (grinning): Son, believe me, _that’s_ definitely over now.  
  
DM: But... you said I’m dead? How is it going to be any help if these... fangirls allowed all those alternate Draco Malfoys to have fun? What are they going to do for me?  
  
SB: They’ll bring you back.  
  
DM: What?  
  
SB: You heard me. They’ll bring you back without even breaking a sweat. And not just once, but a thousand times – in all kinds of different ways.  
  
DM: Are you serious?  
  
SB: This is getting old, you know.  
  
DM: _What I meant_ was: are you serious that they’re going to bring me back?  
  
SB: Well, they keep doing it for me, so I fail to see how you would be any different.  
  
DM: You’re going back? How??  
  
SB: I’ve lost count of the ways they keep coming up with. But I go back all the time.  
  
DM: To do what?  
  
SB: Mostly to shag Remus Lupin.  
  
DM (shuddering): Thanks, this is a mental image I could have done without.  
  
SB: Well, they’ll probably bring _you_ back to shag Ginny Weasley.  
  
DM: WHAT?  
  
SB: Or, alternatively, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Severus Snape, and of course there’s always your Dad...  
  
DM: ...I think I’m going to be sick.  
  
SB: You’re dead, that doesn’t work any longer.  
  
DM (losing his temper): Then I’ll spit ectoplasm or whatever!  
  
SB: That’s poltergeists, and you’re not one of those, either. So if you don’t want any of them, who’s left for you?  
  
DM: Please tell me there _is_ anyone else left to pick.  
  
SB: You want to stick with the H/D shippers, then. They seem to be in the majority anyway, and they’re a _very_ creative bunch when it comes to you.  
  
DM: Creative as in...  
  
SB: ...if you’re hoping for ‘kinky’, yes, they’re that, too. But they’ll also change you from a pasty, whiny little git...  
  
DM: Hey!  
  
SB: ...into a drop-dead gorgeous, silver-haired ice prince.   
  
DM: Hmm. Who would I have to shag for them?  
  
SB: Oh, quite a number of people. But in the end, it would always be Harry Potter, of course.  
  
DM: ...  
  
SB: You’re not very attractive when your mouth is hanging open like that.  
  
DM: Harry Potter??  
  
SB: Obviously, you’ve got this whole hate-love thingy going with him.  
  
DM: HARRY POTTER????  
  
SB: I guess I see how you might have things in common.  
  
DM (inhaling deeply): So - in order to go back to the land of the living, I have to throw myself at the mercy of a bunch of _fangirls_ who want me to do the Prat Who Lived.  
  
SB: Well, they’re certainly reliable. I bet they had the plans ready the moment JKR let you bite the dust. Hell, knowing them, they had them half a year _earlier_. And I mean, Harry’s not _that_ unattractive. Especially if the alternative is remaining dead and not getting any ever again.  
  
DM (sulking): Make that ‘not ever getting any’ thanks to this JKR bitch.  
  
SB: Stop living in the past. Erm, let me rephrase that.  
  
DM: Yeah, rub it in, will you?  
  
SB: Have a little faith in your girls, how about that? They’re probably going to put you through the wringer again and again, but I can safely promise that there will be benefits. Lots of them.  
  
DM: Well, it would certainly be better than staying dead.  
  
SB: That’s the spirit.  
  
DM: Also, I’ll finally get some of the attention and adoration I deserve.  
  
SB: Yeah, well, whatever.  
  
DM: I think I can do this.  
  
SB: Go you!  
  
DM: I mean, I’m a _Malfoy_. We can face any kind of trouble and always come out on top.  
  
SB: Well, in this case, I wouldn’t bet on it.  
  
DM: Huh?  
  
SB: Never you mind. Will you be going, then?  
  
DM: I guess so. What about you?  
  
SB: Yes, me too. No rest for the wicked!  
  
DM: Do you ever come back to this place?  
  
SB: Sometimes, when I feel I could use a bit of quiet. Though I guess it’s going to get pretty crowded around here once Book 7 is finished.  
  
DM: I’ll see you, then?  
  
SB: Count on it.  
  
DM: Black?  
  
SB: Hmm?  
  
DM: If you and I were getting it on _here_, would that technically count as necrophilia?  
  
SB: Boy, you _are_ quick on the uptake, aren’t you?  
  
DM: Well?  
  
SB: It’s not me you should be coming on to, ferret. Off you go, and don’t forget to keep the girls happy!  
  
DM (raising an eyebrow): Don’t you mean Potter?  
  
SB (smirking): Same thing.


	4. Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, and those who made it through are moving on – one way or the other. Poor Lucius Malfoy is in for a surprise...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written before the publication of book 7.

Lucius Malfoy gave a little sigh of satisfaction when the young man's oil-slicked hands deftly worked out another knot in his tense neck muscles. God, how he'd missed this in those horrid years of imprisonment, when he'd had to make do without proper manicure, his favourite brand of shampoo, and a good-looking, well-trained male companion (no Malfoy would ever lower himself to employing the services of a common whore).  
  
"Is this to your satisfaction, Master?" The youngster's voice was gentle, yet firm – Lucius hated the false seductiveness which one so often encountered with those of negotiable affection, and he'd showed his appreciation for this one's professionalism by actually bothering with lube during their previous activities.   
  
"You're doing quite fine, boy. I have to say, your reputation is well deserved."  
  
"You flatter me, Master." The hands slid lower and started working on Lucius' back, which had been troubling him ever since his time in Azkaban. "Does this ease the pain a bit?"  
  
Lucius stiffened for a moment. "What gives you the idea that I might be in pain?"  
  
The hands kept kneading and stroking, forcing his muscles to relax almost against his will. "I'm good at reading... expressions, Master."  
  
Lucius was about to admonish him that he wasn't paying for having his expression read, but he had to admit that the man's knack for doing exactly what his customer wanted without having to be told had already proved highly enjoyable earlier. Besides, the pain in his back _was_ easing under those talented hands.  
  
"One doesn't often find this level of sophistication with members of your profession. I take it you haven't always been in this line of work?"  
  
"Hardly, Master." The young man didn't say anything else, but kept busying himself with his customer's back. Lucius found the answer telling enough; not everyone with a stain on their record had been as successful in returning to their previous social position after the end of the war as he had been. However, this train of thought made him slightly uneasy; if this man really was a member of the losing side, it was safe to assume that his appearance was as fake as the name he'd given.  
  
"Have we met before?" Lucius did his best to keep his voice even, but the man couldn't miss the way his muscles were tensing once more.  
  
"Does it matter, Master?" The hands kept stroking and kneading, and Lucius relaxed again, deciding that it probably didn't. A person who had fallen so low that he had resorted to selling himself definitely posed no threat.   
  
"Probably not. Tell me, though, do you possess any other unusual talents I should know about?"   
  
From the sound of his voice, the man was smiling when he answered, "I'm good at surviving impossible odds, Master. Just like you."  
  
Astonished by the impertinence of the statement, Lucius turned his head to meet the young man's eyes.   
  
They were twinkling at him.  
  
  
+++  
  
  
The healer gave a resigned shrug. "I'm really sorry, Mrs Malfoy; I've done everything I could."  
  
"But – but..." Narcissa Malfoy was wringing her lily-white hands in desperation. "How can this be? Just when I thought things were finally returning to normal..."  
  
"I'm sorry," the healer repeated, "I've checked your husband twice, and I couldn't find any physical reason for this sudden problem. However, since erectile dysfunction has sometimes been found to have been caused by traumatic experiences, do you think he might agree to seeing a psychologist?"


	5. A Dozen Valentines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve Valentines from the year 2006, not to be taken too seriously. Pairing-wise, there's HP/DM, LM/NM, HP/RW, RW/DM, SS/HP, SS/NL, DM/PP, HP/GW, LM/HG, and RW/HG. Did I forget anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written before the publiation of book 7.

  
**To: Draco Malfoy  
From: Narcissa Malfoy**  
  
My dear,  
  
Happy Valentine's Day – enjoy the chocolates, and don't let _him_ eat them, you're far too thin as it is. Your father sends his greetings; he probably won't write himself because he's very busy at the Ministry at the moment. Don't worry, he'll be among the Minister's most trusted ~~sponsors~~ friends again soon enough; it's reassuring to know that some things will never change, and the Ministry is certainly among them.  
  
Mum  
  
  
  
**To: Draco Malfoy  
From: Pansy Parkinson Malfoy**  
  
Dear incorrigible prat,  
  
I know I agreed to a sham marriage, but that excuse will only get you so far. If you send me the wrong brand of chocolate just one more time, I'll ask for a divorce and sue you for your last penny. It can't be _that_ hard to remember that I hate caramel. The little ones say hello; we'll have to visit you soon because Tommy keeps pestering me about wanting to meet Harry Potter. I guess there's something slightly wrong with a boy hero-worshipping his dad's [smudged out word], but I still find it terribly amusing.  
  
Love you (even if I _really_ wonder why sometimes)  
Pansy   
  
  
  
**To: Severus Snape  
From: Harry Potter**  
  
Dear Severus,  
  
I can see you roll your eyes over this, but I wanted to ask if you're alright. This Valentine's Day finds me happier than I've ever been, and I want to make sure you're no longer suffering because things didn't work out for us in the long run. Please tell me that you're over me and that you are not angry with me any more. I have moved on, but I'll always be grateful for what we had and what our time together taught me.  
  
Affectionately,  
Harry  
  
  
  
**To: Harry Potter  
From: Severus Snape**  
  
Potter,  
  
Please stop being a walking cliché. Yes, I'm over you. Besides, Longbottom may have been an abysmal Potions student, but his ~~bl~~ backrubs are a lot better than yours. I am certainly not angry with you; in fact, it is my sincerest conviction that Mr Malfoy and you deserve each other.  
  
S. Snape  
  
  
  
**To: Severus Snape  
From: Draco Malfoy**  
  
Dear Severus,  
  
Yes, of course I managed to read that letter to you before Harry sent it. Concerning the things "your time together taught him": I owe you _big time_, you kinky old bastard.  
  
Gratefully yours,  
Draco  
  
  
  
**To: Ginevra Weasley  
From: Draco Malfoy**  
  
Dear Weaselette,  
  
This is getting ridiculous. Have you no sense of pride at all? Even flooding him with fifty acres of pink paper will not make him come back to you. He's too bloody nice to tell you himself, so I'll have to remind you that stalking is still a criminal offence. Kindly bugger off, and you can damn well stop sending _me_ little pink letters, too. I know a Howler when I see one.  
  
Your ex-boyfriend's boyfriend  
Draco Malfoy  
  
  
  
**To: Draco Malfoy  
From: Ron Weasley**  
  
Ferret,  
  
Please stop making half-veiled allusions to our unfortunate one-night stand in Harry's presence. I was pissed, and it was a long time ago. If Harry ever finds out, he's going to kill me.  
  
Ron Weasley  
  
  
  
**To: Ron Weasley  
From: Harry Potter**  
  
Ron,  
  
Please stop making half-veiled allusions to our unfortunate one-night stand in Draco's presence. I was depressed, and it was a long time ago. If Draco ever finds out, he's going to kill me.  
  
Happy Valentine's Day – are you _finally_ going to ask Hermione out this year?  
  
Harry  
  
  
  
**To: Lucius Malfoy  
From: Hermione Granger**  
  
Mr Malfoy,  
  
Thank you very much for your kind invitation and for the wonderful roses. I must say I'm astounded that you would be interested in having dinner with a Muggle-born, and I can only assume I owe this unexpected honour to the fact that I've recently been promoted to Deputy Head of the Department of Mysteries. Still, my interest is piqued. You don't happen to still own that cane you used to have?  
  
Sincerely,  
Hermione Granger  
  
  
  
**To: Lucius Malfoy  
From: Narcissa Malfoy**  
  
My dear husband,  
  
Happy Valentine's Day. I'm sorry you have to work late again, but of course I understand the demands of your current position. I just wanted to remind you that I wasn't born yesterday and that I'm the only one with a key to your Gringott's vault for the duration of your probation period. Please give my regards to Miss Granger.  
  
Your loving wife,  
Narcissa  
  
  
  
** [Note stuck to the refrigerator door] **  
  
Draco,  
  
Got tired of sitting around here without you. Am waiting in the bedroom.  
  
Love you,  
Harry  
  
  
  
** [Note tied to a rose on the pillow] **  
  
Harry,  
  
I'll kill you if you get started without me.  
  
Love you too,  
Draco


	6. So You Think You Can Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When McGonagall gave the dancing lesson to the Gryffindors in the GoF movie, what were Snape and the Slytherins doing at the same time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tie-in ficlet for the movie version of "Goblet of Fire".

Professor Snape closed the door with an impatient wave of his wand and turned to the assembled Slytherin students with the trademark scowl on his face.  
  
"Everybody shut up and listen to me. Against my advice, the Headmaster is determined to go through with his plan of a Yule ball. The purpose of this gathering is to prepare you for this unfortunate event to make sure you don't make fools out of yourselves in front of the other Houses and our guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. This preparation is necessary because the Yule ball is first and foremost a dance."  
  
Many of the students exchanged furtive glances at this; finally, it was – unsurprisingly – the Malfoy boy who couldn't keep his mouth shut.  
  
"Professor, why would we need preparation for that? I had my first dancing lesson when I was three!"  
  
"So have all of us," Pansy Parkinson piped up. "You can be sure that everyone in Slytherin has been brought up with the proper standards, professor."  
  
Snape sighed. If things only were so easy...   
  
"I don't doubt that, Miss Parkinson. However, you mustn't forget that the wizarding world is not made up of Slytherins in its entirety, and unfortunately, the other parts have very different ideas about proper wizarding standards. Headmaster Dumbledore is keen on showing our openness to the cultural heritage of the Muggleborn part of the student body..." Snape signalled Filch, who had been lurking in a corner beside the vile Muggle contraption he had brought in earlier, to get the damned thing going.  
  
A few seconds later, the room was filled with ear-splitting noise.  
  
A few of the students shrieked and clapped their hands over their ears; it took a while until Filch seemed to get the meaning of Snape's frantic gesturing and turned down the volume to a level that didn't threaten to make the plaster fall from the ceiling, although the floor was still vibrating slightly.  
  
Snape clenched his jaw, steeling himself against what was to come. He had faced the Dark Lord. He _could_ do this.  
  
"I advise you to watch closely, because I'm only going to demonstrate this once."  
  
He closed his eyes and started to move, concentrating on the rhythm of the beat and steadfastly ignoring the whispering of the students.  
  
"What in Merlin's name is he doing?"   
  
"Is he having some kind of seizure? Look at the way his arms are flailing around!"  
  
"Does anyone know if he's an epileptic? I've heard about it, and it seems..."  
  
"Draco, you're good with potions, can you tell what he has been drinking?"  
  
"Sniffing, rather!"  
  
"Looks more like a mild case of Cruciatus to me..."  
  
"But he's not screaming!"  
  
Snape tuned them out, trying to get into the swing of the music. After the first awkward seconds, it became surprisingly easy; twisting and turning like _that_, shimmying his hips just _so_... he attempted a spin and let out a whoop when he actually managed it. The whispering increased all around him.  
  
"So it _is_ Cruciatus."  
  
"That wouldn't explain why he's swaying his butt like that. If he keeps it up, I'm going to be sick."  
  
"I don't know, it looks all right to me."  
  
"That's because you're a bloody poof, Zabini."  
  
"Hello, Mr Pot, I believe you just called me black!"  
  
"Well, you are, aren't you?"  
  
"That was a lame joke even by your standards, Malfoy."  
  
"I can't be witty and brilliant with _that_ in front of me! And what kind of infernal noise _is_ this?"  
  
"Aren't these the Weird Sisters? I think I heard them on the WWN once..."  
  
"I wouldn't know; Father says that this kind of trash is for plebeians and Muggle-lovers. Seems rather dangerous if it gives you seizures, too."  
  
"I really don't think it's seizures, Malfoy. I think he's _dancing_."  
  
"Are you nuts? What kind of dance is this supposed to be?"  
  
"It's disco." That had been Millicent Bulstrode's voice; unlike her classmates, she sounded neither disgusted nor bewildered, but... awed. Snape stopped in mid-shimmy.  
  
"What were you saying, Miss Bulstrode?"  
  
The girl blushed. "This is what the Muggles call disco, Sir, isn't it? My mother told me about it..." She took a step forward, tentatively swaying her upper body in time with the music. "It's basically just rocking around and shaking to the beat. Like this..."  
  
A hush fell over the students as they watched Millicent's demonstration. It wasn't lost on Snape to which part of her anatomy the eyes of every boy in the room were glued.  
  
"Wow." For someone who so rarely showed any emotion, Goyle sounded deeply impressed. "_Look_ at her!"  
  
"Look at _them_!" Crabbe supplied, a bit less subtly.  
  
Pansy Parkinson gave an indignant huff. "It can't be that hard if Muggles manage it, can it? Let's see..."  
  
Just a few moments later, Snape was surrounded by a lot of moving bodies, all of them trying – with varying degrees of success – to _disco_ for the first time in their young lives. Some clearly had more talent for it than others; while Blaise Zabini moved to the music as if he'd been doing it for years, Crabbe and Goyle looked like those old elephants at the zoo, gently rocking from one foot to the other as if they were swaying in a non-existent breeze. Draco Malfoy, who probably felt he had something to prove after Zabini's earlier jibe, was grinding against Pansy Parkinson in a positively indecent way, and Theodore Nott was attempting the same with Millicent Bulstrode, only to get elbowed in the guts for his efforts. All things considered, they were doing quite nicely.  
  
With a sigh of profound relief, Snape made his way to the door. He'd leave them at it for twenty minutes and then come back to break up the impromptu party before things got out of hand.   
  
He didn't see any need to tell them that if anyone _ever_ dared to mention what they had just witnessed here, Severus Snape would make them curse the day they were born every single minute of their remaining time at Hogwarts.  
  
It went without saying.


	7. He'll Die When We're Through With Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, fandom veterans, do you remember the time when we were all still fretting whether Harry was going to survive book 7 or not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written before the publication of book 7 (obviously ;-)

_Summer of 2007.   
  
A day of celebration has turned into world-wide mourning when the first excited fans to open their brand-new copy of the seventh instalment in the Harry Potter series checked the last page and discovered that JKR has done her worst.   
  
Voldemort is defeated. The threat to the wizarding world is gone – but so is its saviour.   
  
Harry Potter is dead._  
  
+++  
  
A bedroom, somewhere not in the UK (JKR didn't take any chances).  
  
Voice: Psst!  
  
JKR: *snores*  
  
Voice: Psssssssst! Jo!  
  
JKR: ...wha?   
  
Voice: Wake up, I need to talk to you.  
  
JKR (suddenly wide awake): You????  
  
HP: Me.  
  
JKR: What are you still doing here? I killed you off!!!  
  
HP: That wasn't very nice of you.  
  
JKR: Hey, I can do as I please, I'm the creator here!  
  
HP: And I'm the one who provided you with wealth and fame, am I not?   
  
JKR: Yes, you did, but you know, I was getting sick of you. If I'd let you live, they never would have stopped pestering me about sequels.  
  
HP: And the fact that you can't say no to more fame and more money is a reason to deny me a future _without_ regular doses of doom and despair?  
  
JKR: The way I see it, Harry dear, you're well beyond doom and despair now.   
  
HP: Thanks, now I feel _a lot_ better.  
  
JKR (smiling sweetly): You should, actually. Originally I planned to let you ride into the sunset with Ginny Weasley draped all over you.  
  
HP (blanching): Woman, you're _evil. _  
  
JKR: See? We've both got our peace now.  
  
HP: Jo, I believe that remark falls into the 'famous last words' category.  
  
JKR: What are you talking about? Yes, there will be a few more movies, but even Daniel Radcliffe will eventually outgrow you.  
  
HP: ...?  
  
JKR: Well, mentally, at least.  
  
HP: And that makes you think it's over?  
  
JKR: I'm done with you, Harry. Please stop haunting my bedroom – it was nice while it lasted, but you'd better accept that it _is_ over.  
  
HP: Actually, that's the reason I'm here. I wanted to bid you farewell.  
  
JKR (touched): Aw, that's _so_ sweet of you, dear. People all over the world will miss you terribly, and so will I.  
  
HP: Erm.  
  
JKR (suspiciously): What?  
  
HP: I'm afraid you've misunderstood me.  
  
JKR: How so?  
  
HP: I'm saying good-bye to you, not to the world at large. You've killed me, so there's no reason for me to hang around you any longer. You've done your part, and I'm grateful – you'll always have a special place in my heart, but it's time to move on.  
  
JKR: Harry, darling, you're _dead_. There is no 'moving on' for you any longer.  
  
HP: Have you ever heard about the trousers of time?  
  
JKR: Isn't that something this Pratchett fellow keeps talking about?  
  
HP: Ok, forget it. But I know for a fact that you know about fanfiction.  
  
JKR: Sure I do. I can really recommend the Sugar Quill...  
  
HP: Jo, it's _me_ you're talking to. You don't have to give me that SQ bullshit, I've seen you lurk around PSA and Pornish Pixies for years now.  
  
JKR (blushing): Ah, well – so what? I suppose they'll all try to resurrect you, but they're not your creator! You're still dead in canon!  
  
HP: And if I don't want to be?  
  
JKR: You don't get a choice in these matters!  
  
HP: Actually, they're offering me a lot of choices, and most of them look better than what you're giving me.  
  
JKR: Who? The kids on ffnet?  
  
HP: Don't try to frighten me, it's not going to work. You won't let me have a future, so I'm going to stick with those who will. Besides, I get laid in _their_ stories.  
  
JKR: Hey, I'm really sorry about that scene I deleted from the first draft of book 7, but I decided it would have been too much for the US market...  
  
HP: And that's a reason to let me die a virgin? Bitch, please.  
  
JKR: So you came to tell me...  
  
HP: ...that I'm moving on. You know, there are many who have prepared for this eventuality, and I've already seen at least a dozen fics that bring me back in a very convincing way when I haven't been dead for two days in canon yet.   
  
JKR: It's still just fanfiction.  
  
HP (smirking): Yes, but who will contradict it? New canon? Oops, I forgot there won't be any!  
  
JKR (bristling): I'll give interviews! I'll confirm that you're dead as a doornail!  
  
HP: Ah, but who will listen to you? The kids whose hero you killed?  
  
JKR: You won't get away with this!  
  
HP: Jo, I survived Voldemort when I was a year old. Overcoming the last chapter of book seven is a walk in the park by comparison.  
  
JKR: They will get tired of you before you know it!  
  
HP: That's not what Frodo tells me. Besides, he keeps assuring me that a closed canon is a godsend because you don't have to battle a creator with entitlement issues any longer. I mean, he's still better off than me because Tolkien...  
  
JKR: Hey!  
  
HP: Ok, that was a bit tactless. But face it, Jo, the matter is out of your hands. You don't want your sandbox any longer, so please move aside and let others play.   
  
JKR (whispering): It wasn't supposed to end like this.  
  
HP (kindly): It doesn't end for _me_.  
  
JKR: I should never have let you go.  
  
HP: Hindsight's twenty-twenty, isn't it?  
  
JKR: I don't want _them_ to have you!  
  
HP: But they have me already, Jo. You've handed me over to them, and I'm very comfortable there. Bye!  
  
JKR: Wait! Am I never going to see you again?  
  
HP: I really don't see why you'd want to.  
  
JKR: But if I do? How can I find you if you leave me now?  
  
HP: Getting yourself a LJ might be a good start.  
  
  
  
_The End. _  
  
Or rather... not. 


	8. Waiting for Book Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's February 1st, 2007, and the apocalypse is nigh in the Harry Potter universe. Or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the cover ;-)

_The Room of Requirement. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort are sitting at a table, playing chess._  
  
HP: Knight to A4.  
  
LV: That move's not even _allowed._  
  
HP (smirking): Well, that should keep the theorists occupied for a while.  
  
Firenze (cantering through the room): The stars are bright tonight... the end is nigh...   
  
LV: Out with you, or the wretched boy will take off his shirt again!  
  
HP: What was that about?  
  
LV: Something about an unnatural obsession with horses -?  
  
HP: No, I meant the end thing.  
  
LV: Well, I...  
  
Sibyll Trelawney (bursting into the room): DOOOOOOOOOOM! The ending is upon us! The apocalypse is coming! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!  
  
LV: Has she been into the sherry again?  
  
HP: Sounds rather like we've got a publication date.  
  
LV: What, that Deathly Hallows business everyone's been fretting about?  
  
HP: Yep.   
  
LV: Well, bugger me. I'd never thought I'd live to see the day.  
  
HP: You definitely won't live to see the day after it.  
  
LV: Very funny, Potter. Remember ten years ago, when we still thought it was actually going to end sometime?  
  
HP: Well, I was young and naive back then. What's your excuse?  
  
LV: Hey, even the greatest sorcerer in the world can't foresee everything!  
  
HP: That's why he died in book 6.  
  
LV: Shut it, you, or there'll be no spanking for you in the next Death Eater non-con darkfic.  
  
HP: Meep.  
  
LV: So, book 7. Man, I keep mixing up the WIPs, I can't even remember properly what that plot line was about.  
  
HP: It all gets kind of fuzzy after a while, doesn't it? Am I dying in that one, or is it the one where I'll end up married to Ginny Weasley?  
  
LV: Talk about rocks and hard places, eh?   
  
HP: Well, I think dystopia's out, so at least I'll win.  
  
LV: But you still won't be getting any.  
  
HP: That, unfortunately, is rather likely, if I recall the prior ones correctly.  
  
LV: Then why do you bother?  
  
HP: I'm afraid I've got to see it through at this point. I mean, I get plenty of action all around, so I suppose I can go back to the chest monsters one more time. Plus, I'll get to kick your arse again.  
  
LV: Like you haven't done that often enough.  
  
HP: Never gets old, though.  
  
LV: I'll get back at you soon enough.  
  
HP: Not in canon, eh?  
  
LV: Since when has that ever stopped anyone?  
  
HP: You don't think book 7 will put an end to it all?   
  
LV: Man, you _still_ are young and naive, Potter. This will just be the beginning, mark my words. Until now, they still felt they had a creator looking over their shoulder, but once that Scottish chick steps aside, all bets are off.  
  
HP: Well, let's hope you're – Malfoy, is that you lurking behind the door?  
  
DM (stepping into the room): You've heard?  
  
HP: It was rather hard to miss, what with all the wailing and gnashing of teeth.  
  
DM: Do you think I'm gonna die?  
  
HP: Who cares? I'll keep shagging you seven ways from Sunday anyway.  
  
LV: Hmmmm, I love me a good necro.  
  
HP: You would, you perv. No need to faint on me, Malfoy – Trousers of Time, remember? Plus, the AU thing is going to become _big_ now.  
  
DM: You're not dumping me then?  
  
HP: Didn't you hear what I said? I won't be dumping _anyone_ anytime soon.  
  
LV (shaking his head): Is there anyone in the series you _didn't_ do at this point? Seriously, Potter, how are you keeping up?   
  
HP: All that time in the gym wasn't _just_ for show, you know.  
  
DM: No, it was for the _artistic value_ of it.  
  
HP: Out with you, ferret. I'll deal with you later. Over and over, trust me.  
  
DM (smirking): Is that a promise or a threat?  
  
HP: Both. Depends on who the author ships me with. (DM out)  
  
LV: King to pawn.  
  
HP: Very funny. Look, I'm sick of this game. Can we play Exploding Snap instead?  
  
LV: What are you, twelve?  
  
HP: Do I _look_ twelve?  
  
LV: Keep your shirt on, for fuck's sake! We're not playing Strip Poker here!  
  
HP: We could, you know.  
  
LV: Yes, I think I read a PWP like that once.  
  
HP: You'd better give credit for that quote, or you'll be f_wanked to hell and back.  
  
LV: You think anyone'll notice _that_ in the shitstorm that's about to break loose?  
  
Sibyll Trelawney (bursting into the room _again_): DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!OMG11!!  
  
HP: Point taken.  
  
LV: You up for a game, then?  
  
HP: No time, I'm afraid. There's a WIP finishing frenzy brewing, so I'd better get back to the grind.  
  
LV: Don't try to act as if you didn't love every minute of it.  
  
HP: What can I say? It's fun being the hero. But don't worry, your dancing card will be pretty full soon too.  
  
LV: Ah, my precious darkficcers, bless their little twisted souls.  
  
HP (rising from the table): No rest for the wicked, eh?  
  
LV: Not while anyone of _them_ still has internet access.  
  
HP: I suppose I'll be seeing you around then.  
  
LV: Count on it. But I'm warning you, if you make me look bad in book 7, my revenge will be terrible.  
  
HP: More spanking?  
  
LV: Fluffy mpreg.   
  
HP (blanching): Wow, that's low even for you.  
  
LV (smirking): What can I say? Being the baddie has its perks, too.


	9. A Dozen Valentines for JKR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine's Day 2007, just a few months before the final book…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, how did I ever survive the wait for the final book if it took me that much crack to cope?

**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Harry Potter  
  
Jo,  
  
Here's a Valentine for you. I hope that I'll still be able to send you another next year. If I'm not, I'll find a way to send some to my fanficcers instead, so consider yourself warned.  
  
Love,  
Harry  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Severus Snape  
  
Mrs Rowling,  
  
Since you created my character, you shouldn't be surprised that I won't send you any kind of sappy greeting. I hear you've finally made up your mind concerning my loyalties. I look forward to finding out which side I'm on because I'm afraid I'm not quite sure any more at this point.  
  
Sincerely,  
~~Professor~~ Severus Snape  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Albus Dumbledore  
  
My dear lady,  
  
I hope you spend a wonderful Valentine's Day. I heard rumours somewhere that I was giving you trouble while you were writing book 7, and I assure you that was never my intention, insofar as the dead can have intentions at all. Actually, I wanted to thank you for offing me in book 6; it saves me all the fretting most of my fellow characters have to go through at the moment.  
  
My best wishes to you,  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Neville Longbottom  
  
Dear Mrs Rowling,  
  
Happy Valentine's Day! I hope that you like the magical roses I grew for you, and that you didn't come up with a way to make the prophecy about me in the end. Let Harry be the hero again – I realize he's not terribly good at it either, but I suppose he's used to it at this point.   
  
Yours,  
Neville  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Narcissa Malfoy  
  
If you hurt my baby, I'll make you regret it for the rest of your sorry life. Happy Valentine's Day.  
  
Narcissa Malfoy  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Molly Weasley  
  
I wish you the happiest of Valentine's Days, my dear! Spend it with your loved ones, and with lots of flowers and chocolates, you deserve a break from all the stress you've been through lately. Just keep in mind that if you hurt any of my babies, I'll make you regret it for the rest of your sorry life.  
  
Hugs &amp; kisses,  
Molly Weasley  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Remus Lupin  
  
Dear Mrs Rowling,  
  
I wish you a happy Valentine's Day. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to spend it with a woman who loves me, even if I'm camper than a row of pink tents. Still, I appreciate the thought of at least providing me with a girlfriend who is... adaptable in that department. I've learned to take the glass-half-full approach during the life you came up with for me.  
  
Only slightly bitter,  
R. Lupin  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Sirius Black  
  
Jo,  
  
I'll be back.  
  
Sirius  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Peter Pettigrew  
  
Dearest author,  
  
Happy Valentine's Day! It's not too late for grovelling, is it?   
  
Hopefully,  
Wormtail  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Ginevra Weasley  
  
Dear Mrs Rowling,  
  
I hope you have a nice Valentine's Day. Since it seems a fitting day to talk about romance, I'd like to inform you that I know you meant well when you paired me up with Harry in book 6, but I'm asking you not to bother any more in the final instalment. I'd have found a way to put up with his chest monster problem, but his constant drooling over Draco Malfoy and Tom Riddle has convinced me he's a lost cause in that regard. Can I have Dean back instead?  
  
Best wishes,  
Ginny  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Sibyll Trelawney  
  
My poor, poor dear,  
  
Enjoy your Valentine's Day while you can, for I have gazed into the fogs of the future, and I have seen Hell's own fury break loose on the seventh day of the seventh month (and damn you for making me miss by two weeks! Seriously, what kind of date is 7/21??)   
  
Somewhat miffed,  
your seer  
  
  
**To**: J. K. Rowling  
**From**: Lucius Malfoy  
  
GET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU MUGGLE BITCH!!!


	10. You've Got Mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Harry's first birthday post-Deathly Hallows, and he's keeping quite busy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as the seventh month of 2007 was dying. What a month it was, HP-wise - we shall not look upon its like again...

**From**: harry.potter@wizworld.co.uk  
**To**: &lt; Sugar Quill &gt;  
**Cc**: &lt; Canonwhores ltd &gt;; &lt; rowlingisgod &gt;  
**Sent**: 2007-07-31, 20:17  
**Subject**: B-day  
  
My dear friends,  
  
Thank you so much for your birthday wishes. It's been a wonderful day, which I celebrated with Ginny and our two boys, and also with Ron and Hermione who came over for tea with little Rose. Ginny is expecting again – I really hope it's a girl this time – and Hermione told me they're also trying for another. At this rate, we'll have our own Potter-Weasley Quidditch team assembled soon.  
  
Job is going fine, thanks for asking. I'm still not quite used to heading the Auror department, but I'm getting there. The department needs a complete make-over, so Ron and I have our hands full – well, Ron even more than me, what with him working at the Joke Shop in the evenings!   
  
As for me, I do a bit of DADA counselling at Hogwarts on the side, since the new teacher doesn't really know what he's doing. That means I'm really busy, but of course, I somehow manage to spend plenty of time with the family. Being Head Auror is a rather dangerous occupation, doubly so if you're the famous vanquisher of Voldemort and therefore have a huge bull's eye painted on your forehead, but I still lead a nice quiet life because I've had enough trouble for a lifetime. It's not easy to get all that to add up, but you know – magic.  
  
The scar hasn't bothered me in ages, and I have no idea what that "trauma" thing people keep asking me about is supposed to be. Don't worry about me. All is well :-)  
  
Canonically yours,  
Harry  
  
PS: Forgive me if I didn't get all the birth years right. I can't help it that I suck at numbers – it's a hereditary thing.  
  
  
  
**From**: harry.granger-potter@witchworld.co.uk  
**To**: &lt; HMS Harmony &gt;  
**Bcc**: fandom_wank@journalfen.com  
**Sent**: 2007-07-31, 20:19  
**Subject**: B-day  
  
My faithful friends,  
  
Your lovely birthday wishes mean the world to me. I always knew I could count on you, no matter how many people tried to make you believe I'd ever do so much as look at that Weasley slut, let alone fall for her siren charms.   
  
I'm spending my birthday with my one true soul mate, of course, whose unerring love and guidance was the only thing that kept me going while that evil author had me in her clutches. ("Like a sister", my arse. How _dare_ she?)   
  
I don't know what I would have done all these years without my true love, or without you, who've kept fighting the holy crusade against the unbelievers. I won't ever forget it.  
  
Yours in harmony,  
Harry  
  
  
  
**From**: harry.potter@wizworld.co.uk  
**To**: &lt; Guns&amp;Handcuffs &gt;  
**Sent**: 2007-07-31, 20:22  
**Subject**: B-day  
  
My darlings,  
  
Thanks for the b-day wishes. Sorry if my answer is brief, but Draco just came in with a bottle of chocolate sauce and a determined expression on his face. I have no idea what he's planning, although I suppose it will involve wands (it usually does).  
  
His Mum sent me a birthday cake, btw. I knew she'd warm up to me, since she's aware that I've had a crush on her son since age 11 (and vice versa) and saved his life twice over (and vice versa). Lucius is still a tough one to crack, but we'll manage in time. If nothing else helps, there's always the invitation to a threesome.  
  
Btw, both Draco and I are in total awe of your ability to flat-out deny the existence of the Epilogue of Heterosexual Doom and _still_ slash our sons. Way to go, ladies; don't ever change.  
  
Hugs &amp; kisses  
Harry  
  
PS: Draco _really_ wants you to know that his hairline is just where it was when he was 18, thank you very much.  
  
  
  
**From**: harry.potter@wizworld.co.uk  
**To**: &lt; Snarry forever &gt;  
**Sent**: 2007-07-31, 20:25  
**Subject**: B-day  
  
My dears,  
  
Thank you all for the birthday greetings, and the _interesting_ presents you sent me. It'll take me a while to figure out what they're all for, but Severus is a great help in that regard, what with his experience from Death Eater orgies and stuff. Btw, your concerns that his performance might have suffered from any lasting effects of the snake venom are very sweet, but totally unnecessary. He _is_ a Potions Master, after all.  
  
I have just one teensy request: please, stop bugging him with nosy questions about his unhealthy infatuation with my Mum. It really upsets him. Ask him about my Dad instead; he'll happily rant about that topic for hours. I don't mind, it's his way to show that he cares.  
  
Love,  
Harry  
  
PS: Yes, he _does_ wash his underpants, now that we're together, and I make sure he also washes his hair. He says I'm worth it.  
  
PPS: No, of course he's not dead. Seriously, what kind of question is that??  
  
  
  
**From**: bigbadwolf@darklordslair.co.uk  
**To**: &lt; Darkficcers &gt;  
**Sent**: 2007-07-31, 20:25  
**Subject**: FW: B-day  
  
Yo, bitches,  
  
I spent another miserable birthday locked up in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. After today's Death Eater orgy, I may never walk again. That's fine, though, since my life is nothing but bleakness and despair these days anyway, so the gang-bangs are a rather welcome distraction (besides, I _know_ you get off on Stockholm Syndrome, you pervs).   
  
As to be expected, Voldemort III is even more terrible than his first two instalments. Getting me his younger self for my dose of b-day non-con was very thoughtful of you, though. If I promise to keep suffering prettily during the next year, do you think you could send young Grindelwald along for my next birthday? You know I have a thing for blonds.  
  
Yours in misery,  
Harry  
  
PS: In case you're wondering who I had to blow to get that email out to you, the answer is Greyback. I hope you're happy now.  
  
  
  
**From**: harry.potter@wizworld.co.uk  
**To**: &lt; ff.net &gt;  
**Sent**: 2007-07-31, 20:28  
**Subject**: B-day!!!  
  
Thx for the b-day wishes sweeties! Am busy snogging latest US exchange student with awesome veela powers and violet eyes OMG! Did try for creative spelling but it made my eyes bleed LOL! More in the next ~~chappie~~ ~~ficcie~~ ~~mailie~~ whatever(ie)! 111!!!  
  
&lt;333333333333333333  
Hary  
  
PS: Voldie, come back and kill me _now_, plz.  
  
  
  
**From**: harry.potter@wizworld.co.uk  
**To**: jkrowling@topsecretprivatemailaddress.co.uk  
**Sent**: 2007-07-31, 20:33  
**Subject**: B-day  
  
Dear Jo,  
  
Happy birthday to you, too! How are you doing? Haven't heard from you in a while.   
  
I'm fine, just a bit knackered since I just sent out a shitload of emails in answer to the birthday greetings I got – and you'd better hope I didn't get them mixed up, or all hell is going to break loose within the next half hour.   
  
Thanks for not killing me off in the last instalment, btw; it's appreciated. It would have been nice to know that I _did_ get some at some point during my teenage years, but I realise that's not _your_ job, after all. At least I got to strip twice (although I have the nagging suspicion that you did that more for Dan Rad's sake than mine) and snog a Snitch, you kinky thing, you.  
  
As to your question what I'm up to these days – Jo, you sure you really want an answer to that? ;-)  
  
Much love, as always  
Your  
Harry  
  
PS: Oh, and Jo – if you ever do write that encyclopaedia thingie, please get someone to do the math for you.


End file.
